Queen Alanna
by Narao
Summary: In her years as a page and squire Alanna liked (loved) both Jonathan and George... so what if she'd married Jon instead of George and become the Queen of Tortall? chapter 10 is up, r/r please!!
1. Unhappy Queen

Disclaimer: I wrote all of this myself, but I "borrowed" the setting and most of the characters from Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!

***

Alanna glared at herself in the full-length mirror before her, trying her best not to squirm as her seamstress went about the tedious work of fitting the queen, infamous for hating social gatherings, for a new dress required to go to one of those such horrors. (As Alanna considered them.) The seamstress, a young woman who was nevertheless amazingly talented with a needle, caught sight of Alanna's face and smothered a laugh as Alanna's angry eyes turned to her.

            "Are you almost finished?" the Lioness snapped, resisting the urge to yank her skirt of the seamstress's hands—such an act would probably send pins flying and then the seamstress would need to start all over, wasting even _more_ of Alanna's time.

            The seamstress nodded wordlessly, keeping her eyes, sparkling with suppressed mirth, on the material she was deftly pinning up.

            Alanna bit back an angry torrent of words. After all, it wasn't this woman's fault that she had to attend an endless stream of boring, pointless parties. For the millionth time since marrying Jonathan, Alanna wondered if she had made the right choice. She had been dubious of the sincerity of his offer, but it had appeared that Jon had truly grown tired of Princess Josiane and realized that his true love lay with Alanna. Not that Alanna doubted that—it was just that she had expected to have time to adjust to someday being queen in the far-off day when Roald and Lianne died.

            That was not to be, as Alanna found upon returning from her quest to find the Dominion Jewel, which Jonathan promised to her as a final adventure before marrying him and becoming a princess—still a warrior and a knight, but one who was mostly grounded in the palace. Alanna had had plans to change Jon's mind about that, but for the moment she had agreed.

            Then, upon returning with the precious Jewel and Princess Thayet, Buri, and Liam Ironarm, the Shang Dragon, in tow, Alanna's happy bubble had been unexpectedly punctured, in two places. First George, her longtime friend and hopeful lover, had greeted her. Although she had been at first overjoyed to see her friend, it had suddenly dawned on Alanna that she would never be able to enjoy little kisses and embraces from George anymore—not when she was a princess, and certainly not when she was a Queen of Tortall! She had thought she'd wrestled over that one enough before accepting Jon's marriage proposal, but apparently the feelings were still there.

            Second, Raoul, another long-time friend and fellow knight, had found her. Again she had been overjoyed to see an old friend, but Raoul's visit was accompanied with terrible news: Queen Lianne had died from weakness caused previously by Jon's cousin, Duke Roger, and shortly thereafter King Roald had died in a hunting accident. Later Jon had confided in her that his father had in fact taken his own life.

            Alanna had gone to Jon with plans to announce that she could not marry him, at least not yet, despite her earlier vow to, when she had been confronted with that news. Seeing Jon brokenly crying as he poured out his soul to her, Alanna hadn't the heart to tell him her original purpose for coming to speak with him.

            And so now here she was, wondering yet again what in the world she had gotten herself into.

            At last the seamstress rose, smoothing her skirt daintily, as she announced, 

            "All right, Your Majesty, I'm finished. Just let me take that to sew it up, and it will be ready for you by tonight. I'll send it over with a servant."

            Making no effort to hide her relief at being finished with the monotony of dress-fitting, Alanna stepped out of the dress as hurried as she could without damaging the silk and pulled on, more roughly, her _comfortable _clothes: white blouse, tan breeches and tunic, and leather ankle-boots. As the seamstress left, bearing away the dress and her pins and needles, Alanna buckled on her sword belt and quickly tied back her hair before striding out of the room and down to the practice yards, where she could vent some of her frustration in a bout with someone.

            On the way out she passed a meeting room, and upon glimpsing Jon inside slipped by guiltily, trying to avoid being noticed: she was supposed to be attending that meeting, most likely, but at the moment she didn't think she could take another dull talk about something that she supposed concerned the kingdom in the remotest possible way, but never something she would give a second thought to were it not called to the attention of Tortall's monarchs.

            Reaching the practice yards, Alanna was about to step onto one of the empty courts when she noticed the occupants of the next one and ducked back out of sight, a cold sweat beginning to break out over her. That was the third problem: Duke Roger. She had killed him in a duel years earlier after she had discovered that he planned to kill Jon, King Roald, and Queen Lianne in order to seize the throne for himself. However, her sorcerer-brother, Thom, had brought him back from the dead while she was away on her quest for the Jewel in response to a taunt by some of Roger's old admirers. Roger had sworn to have put his old ways behind him, had sworn that he had no intention to again try to take the throne, but Alanna didn't trust him, and she was afraid of him—she couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of resentment he must harbor towards her, the woman who had slain him.

            In all the time she had been back at the palace, she had done her best to stay out of his way, and he appeared to do the same—but she felt distinctly uneasy around him. Chancing another peek, she saw that he was sparring with Alex, one of Jon's year-mates in the years they had all been training as pages and squires. Alanna found herself frowning. Alex had become Roger's squire many years earlier, and since she and him had not been as close as they used to be, and now Alanna found that she couldn't help distrusting him a little, too. Anyone who was a close as he was to Roger, well… she was just as well off without spending excess time with him.

            Alanna fought down the queasy feeling in her stomach as she turned from the practice yards and headed for the stables—perhaps a ride would do her good. Thankfully, the stables were empty, and she headed straight for her horse Moonlight's stall. The golden mare thrust her head into her mistress's chest, whinnying happily, as Alanna opened the stall door and led her horse out.

            "Yes, girl, I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" Alanna whispered as she found Moonlight's saddle and began to tack her horse up. "But not by my own choosing." Her voice hardened as she added, "If I had my way, you and I wouldn't set foot in this palace for a year, minimum. We'd go off adventuring and never have to attend another stupid party. Or at least, _I_ wouldn't have to."

            Moonlight whickered in agreement, and Alanna couldn't help but let a brief smile flicker across her face before letting it return to the grimness she seemed always to be wearing now. With any luck, the ride would take her mind off Roger, Alex, Jon, and most of all, being Queen of Tortall.

***

Well, R/R! Hope you liked it!


	2. A Party

Thanks everyone for the reviews and sorry about the whole thing being in one huge paragraph before… I forgot to switch it to html format in word before I put it on the site last time. J

***

Alanna stifled a yawn as she kept her face a polite mask that hid the blend of fury and complete boredom seething beneath it. One of the new ladies, Lady Amelia, had come over and monopolized her monarch's attentions with lighthearted chatter for the better part of the evening, sticking by their sides the entire time even as other guests came and left to mingle with the others. Alanna felt herself bristling as this Amelia began covertly inching closer to Jonathan, making coy remarks ostensibly directed towards both of them, but in truth intended only for Jonathan.

            Sensing someone nearing, Alanna glanced up and stiffened as Lady Delia came over. The queen would have welcomed almost anyone to give Jonathan a politely reasonable excuse not to talk with Lady Amelia any longer, but that invitation did not stretch as far as Lady Delia. The woman had been one of Jonathan's lovers as a young knight, before Alanna came into his life as a more intimate companion than his squire, and Alanna did not trust the woman at all. In fact, it had seemed to her that even before Delia knew she was a girl she had done her utmost to ruin Jon and "Alan's" relationship.

            Delia neared and dropped a curtsy, but there was no mistaking the sarcastic contempt in her face as her eyes glided over Alanna and came to a rest on Jonathan.

            "Lady Delia," Alanna said tightly when Jonathan nudged her.

            "Your Majesty—s," Delia replied in a syrupy, fake voice. It was no secret that although Delia played the worshipping courtier, she scorned and despised Alanna for hiding her sex for eight years and then having the gall to marry Jonathan; she held no respect whatsoever for her queen and had boldly confided in others that she would never accept a female knight as her queen.

            Alanna bit down hard on her tongue as she felt Jon's hand apply a slight pressure where it rested on her arm—it wasn't becoming for queens to display fits of temper in public, and certainly not against a gentle lady like Delia. As Delia engaged herself in Jonathan and Amelia's conversation, Alanna contented herself by envisioning the things she would do to Delia if she weren't so strictly confined by the rules of etiquette and chivalry—for Alanna was also a knight, and the Rules of Chivalry were specific in the manner in which a knight should treat a lady.

            At last Alanna could stand the flirtatious ladies no longer. Pulling Jonathan up roughly, she announced, 

            "Jon, would you honor me with a dance? Please, excuse us, ladies."

            Before the king could protest she dragged him out onto the dance floor, leaving Delia and Amelia to glower at her as they joined the swirling patterns of ladies' skirts and men's tunics flashing on the dance floor.

            "When can we get out of here?" Alanna growled into Jonathan's ear as they danced.

            "Alanna," Jonathan said impatiently, "We've been over this so many times! Not yet. And _do_ try to be more polite to your subjects!"

            Scowling darkly, Alanna responded by digging her fingers into Jonathan's arm a tad more tightly than the dance required, and was rewarded with a satisfying half-yelp that the king quickly disguised as a cough. He glared at her, but said nothing as she glared in return.

            Finally the night was over, and Alanna practically ran back to her rooms, dragging Jonathan with her as he stubbornly held her arm in the proper escort for a noble and his wife. Once safely inside their bedroom, Alanna angrily shook him off and stormed into the next room to wash, slamming the door behind her. Jonathan watched in a mix of annoyance and amusement before shaking his head and undressing slowly.

            In the washroom Alanna stared at herself in the mirror, fighting tears of rage and frustration as she thought of all the things she could be doing instead of wasting time at those damned parties. She could be killing bandits, going on quests, even just patrolling the border to keep out marauding Scanrans! Yet no, the best swordsman in the realm was spending her time at dinner parties jealously watching ladies flirt with her husband. Before she could help herself she was thinking longingly of the life she could be having if she wasn't married, if she was still a lone knight traveling lonely roads with Coram or living in the desert with the Bazhir as the revered Woman Who Rides Like a Man.

            Suddenly a thought stole unbidden into her head: or she could be married to George, raising rambunctious children and spending her days laughing at her thief. Alanna quickly pushed the thought from her mind, telling herself that she would _never_ be happy raising children and having no adventures—she ignored the nasty part of her mind that reminded her that someday she would have to give birth to an heir, and that in the meantime she still wasn't having any adventures.

            Before any more such thoughts could sneak their way into her head, Alanna bathed her aching head in cool water and cleaned her teeth before re-entering the bedroom and undressing. Jonathan washed up next and then joined her in bed, and Alanna felt him tensing next to her.

            "Alanna," he said hesitantly after a moment.

            She didn't reply.

            "Alanna," he repeated. "Can you talk to me? Tell me what's wrong?"

            She sat bolt upright and turned to glower at him. "What's wrong? In general, or tonight?"

            Jonathan sighed. "Whichever you want to tell me."

            "All right, I'll tell you! And _thank_ you for being so damned considerate of my feelings! Like considering how I feel while you flirt with Delia and all the other ladies, like considering how I feel using up my life sitting around in dresses and listening to courtiers chatter about nothing at all! This is _exactly_ the life I swore I wouldn't take—why else do you think I became a knight? Do you think I spent eight years disguised as a boy just to do _this_?"

            Jonathan blinked, taken aback. "Alanna, I…" he trailed off, reaching over to embrace her.

            Furious, Alanna pulled out of his arms' reach. "Don't touch me!"

            Jonathan sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry you feel like this, but we just need to talk, all right? When you calm down."

            Alanna turned away and buried herself under the blankets, biting back a scream of aggravation and wrath as silent tears burned down her cheeks. He would never understand, would he? And why should he? He had spent his entire life preparing to become king, and it was no shock to him how kings had to behave—after all, his father had been king, and Jonathan had had Roald to learn from all his life. But Alanna had not been a princess, and she had not been prepared for this life that now caused her so much pain and anguish.

***

I hope people like my story so far…. Please, R/R!!! and give me _constructive criticisms,_ not just praising comments! my story cant get better if no one tells me how to improve it…


	3. An Old Friend

***

Alanna trembled with nervous energy as she slipped into the plain clothes she had always worn to the city in her visits as the rich young "Alan" to the Dancing Dove, where George and his rogues held court. Dressed, she pulled on the softest-soled pair of shoes she owned and cast a look at her cat, Faithful, a black shadow somehow standing out in the blackness of the room.

            "You promise to keep him asleep?" she whispered, glancing pointedly at Jonathan, who was lying on their bed.

            _You doubt me?_ Faithful demanded mockingly. _Just get out before I change my mind about this foolishness you're always getting me into._

            Alanna scowled at the cat, but slipped out the door without a backward glance, knowing her pet wouldn't let her down. Alanna would have cast a sleeping spell over her husband herself, but she feared Jonathan's magic might be greater than her own—yet Faithful possessed some unnaturalness, and Alanna had no doubt that he had magic that _far_ surpassed anything she or Jon might have.

            Few were up at this hour of the night, and as Alanna had spent eight years living in the palace, not counting her short time as queen, she knew every dark, unoccupied corridor to travel in order to get her to the stables unnoticed. Once safely there she let out an audible sigh of relief, and was halfway done tacking Moonlight up when she stopped and bit back an angry cry, cursing her foolishness. Certainly the guards would let her out—what choice had they?—but Jonathan would then get word of her nighttime escapade; she wouldn't have bothered to ask Faithful to put a sleeping spell on him if she didn't care if he knew.

            Still, she wasn't going to be held up by that. Swiftly removing Moonlight's saddle and bridle, Alanna whispered a quiet apology to her horse for disturbing her, then exited the stable and slipped out the palace gate unnoticed, a small figure casting a long shadow in the night as she set out for Corus at a jog.

            By the time she arrived it was late enough for George to be abed, so she didn't even bother with going through the front door of the Dancing Dove. Instead, she climbed the outside wall to George's room, halting just below his window as she recalled a time in her first year as a page when she had attempted just such an entrance and had been taken by George to be a backstabbing thief.

            Shaking her head, Alanna finished the climb and pulled herself inside as silently as she could, offering a silent prayer to the Goddess that such an experience would not be repeated tonight. As she landed in the room she found herself confronted with a tall young man, and immediately called upon her Gift to flare up in a contained ball of fire she held in her hand, bathing the room and her face in purple light.

            George was wearing the oddest expression that somehow made Alanna's heart ache with pain, but suddenly he was the smiling, laughing George she was used to. Blinking, Alanna wondered if she'd really seen the previous expression; it had disappeared so quickly.

            "How'd you know it was me?" she demanded of the tall thief, wondering why he hadn't attacked her in the moment before her Gift revealed who she was.

            He smiled wryly. "I have th' Sight, remember?" After a slight pause he added, "It alerted me t' you in time for me t' get clothed—wouldn't be fit and proper for th' Queen of Tortall t' see th' King of Thieves naked, would it?" His voice seemed to have taken on a touch of a sarcastically bitter tone, but Alanna chose to ignore it as she felt her cheeks flaming up.

            "Fine, I'll leave!" she snapped, stomping to the door,

            A strong hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she spun to look up into hazel eyes, her heart speeding up at his touch. Nervously she pushed it away, thinking to herself, _Stop it! I'm a married woman now, and married to _Jonathan. _It's not like I'm a squire anymore, and one who can take my pick between two men!_

            "Calm down, Queen Alanna. I said it weren't proper for you t' see a _naked_ King of Thieves, but I do believe I'm fully clothed."

            Fighting an unreasonable urge to cry, Alanna looked down, unable to meet his eyes as she nodded and forced out a laugh Pressing her into a chair, George seated himself next to her and looked her over carefully, something like pain entering his eyes as he said in a strained but cheerful voice,

            "So what brings royalty t' Th' Dancing Dove at this hour of th' night?"

            Swallowing hard, Alanna said curtly, "Oh stop it, George. I'm still me, just in a cursed disguise as a queen."

            George looked surprised as he asked, "And what's t' mean by that?"

            Alanna shrugged, but suddenly found the words she could never tell to Jonathan tumbling out of her mouth.

            "I _hate_ being queen!" There, it was out. "I spent eight years as a boy getting beat up and broken and bruised so that I wouldn't have to be a lady! And now look at me. I spend all my time in court, and even though everyone insists that I'll be able to do my own knights' work, I don't see when that will ever happen!"

            She paused, watching George, but the thief was silent, so she continued.

            "And of course I can't tell Jon any of this, because I suppose he's giving up having adventures as much as I am—only he's been prepared to do that since he was born, and he had all those years to get used to the idea and accept it! But me… I never had plans to get married at all, much less become queen! And I _hate_ it! I—"

            She was cut off by George's voice, completely unreadable. "Alanna."

            She looked into his eyes, and was startled to catch a fine glimmer of hope slipping into the hazel depths.

            "Alanna. D' you love Jonathan?"

            She was so startled by the question that she didn't know what to say. Her first reaction was "Of course I do", but the words were barely on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed them, stopped by the impossible thought, _Do I _really_ love Jon?_ She _had_ loved him, certainly—she would never have become queen if it were not to gain the man she loved. Yet—she had grown to hate her life so much, was her resentment of Jon for dragging her into it enough to dissolve her love for him? She closed her eyes to think, and suddenly found herself wrapped in warm arms as warm lips descended on her own.

            She didn't struggle, for the kiss seemed so natural, and she welcomed it. Suddenly George broke away, alarm clouding his face. With a gasp, Alanna realized what had just happened and began to tremble, tears forming behind her eyes.

            "George," she whispered hoarsely. "We… we can't…"

            "I know." George's face was set, made grim by pain. "You're th' queen, an' I'm just a thief. But I still love you, Alanna."

***

You didn't really think I'd let her stay with Jonathan, did you? Hehe. And for everyone who's confused about the other characters (Thayet, Buri, Thom, Liam, etc.) I promise I'll get to that in the next chapter… I meant to here but I couldn't resist writing what I did instead… so, R&R!!!


	4. Other Acquaintances

hey everyone! thanks for the reviews… very encouraging! (well, most of them…)

to irked and annoyed citizen: yes, I do have a brain, and yes, I do use it. im sorry if I don't have time to read through the **_two thousand nine hundred and eighty seven_** stories under the tamora pierce category of fanfic and make sure I didn't use an idea someone had already used…….. so my advice would be if you find my story annoying, don't read it anymore.

***

Alanna smiled at Buri as they met in the practice yards one morning.

            "You don't know how good it is to see someone who's not demanding a queenly duty out of me," Alanna muttered as the two picked bows and arrow to shoot at targets.            Buri gave a short laugh. "Glad to be of service. You're doing the same for me."

            Alanna glanced sharply at the small K'mir, who was calmly letting fly an arrow that hissed through the air and embedded itself in the center of the target.

            "What was that supposed to mean?" Alanna demanded, sending her own arrow flying; it landed a hair away from the center of the bullseye.

            Buri shrugged. "Thayet's not the easiest person to be around these days, is all. I just need a break from her once in a while."

            Alanna paused to stare at Buri. "What? What's the matter with Thayet?"

            Buri shrugged again. "She's just moping around all the time, it seems. I know she's happy to be here, but she really has nothing to do… and even though she'll never say it, I think she misses being royalty. She's just so used to it, and she always took it for granted that she would be part of the ruling family of K'mir."

            Alanna sighed. "I'd give almost anything to switch places with her," she mused wistfully, hardly even aware that she was speaking out loud until Buri agreed quietly,

            "I'd guess she's feeling the same way."

            Abruptly Alanna started, and Buri waved the statement away. "Never mind that, Majesty! Just foolishness, that's all…" she trailed away, looking uncomfortable.

            Alanna shuddered. "Please, don't call me 'Majesty'—it's enough to make me sick, at the moment."

            This brought a wry grin to Buri's face. "All right, Lioness. But really, don't worry about Thayet. She'll be fine, she just needs some more time to adjust. And I'll be fine too—I just have to deal with a grump until then."

            Alanna nodded in agreement, thinking contradictorily to herself, _It's not _them_ I'm worried about, it's me!_

            Just then Alanna saw a tall figure clad in elegant silk step onto the courts, deeply engaged in conversation with another figure. Shivering, she pulled Buri off the archery field and they ducked into one of the rooms where extra weapons were kept.

            "Sorry," Alanna responded to Buri's questioning look. "I just feel so uneasy around Roger… maybe it's unreasonable, but…"

            Buri shook her head firmly. "Unreasonable, nothing. Men returning from the dead are bound to make you uneasy—especially if you're the one who killed him!"

            Alanna just shook her head again, thinking in silence for a moment before suddenly remembering—

            "Buri! I'm sorry, I completely forgot that I'm supposed to be back in the palace! I told Thom I'd meet him today…" she trailed off, worry for her twin clouding her face.

            Buri nodded understandingly. "Don't worry about it, Maj—Alanna. Go see your brother. I believe I'll go back upstairs, too… back to my grouch of a mistress." She looked back at the practice courts, indicating the Duke of Conte and his companion, Alex, with a hand. "I don't think I'll stick around here right now."

            Alanna nodded, but her thoughts were already on Thom as the two headed back to the palace and parted. Thom had been looking terrible since he brought Roger back from the dead, as if his Gift were suddenly turning on him and burning him away from the inside out. Alanna hadn't been able to see him very often since returning to the palace, especially not after marrying Jonathan, but it seemed that every time she visited him he looked worse.

            As Alanna reached Thom's rooms, Faithful darted out of nowhere and raced away down the hallway, yowling, _Teach that dragon of yours some better manners towards cats!_ Alanna allowed herself half a grin; ever since Faithful had aided in putting a sleeping spell on Liam, who was scared to death of magic, he had shunned the cat and thrown kicks at the animal if he got too close. The grin dissipated, however, as she knocked on Thom's door and was received by her brother.

            Alanna couldn't help but gasp when she saw him; in a week, Thom had gone from being a bit on the skinny side with feverish headaches and dry skin to cracked, dried white parchment stretched over brittle bones. Alanna instinctively reached for the ember-stone that hung at her throat, a token from the Goddess that she had received years earlier, and gasped again as the stone revealed a blood-red aura surrounding Thom.

            "Thom!" She reached out for him, and he drew back, his face turning dangerously angry as he said heatedly, "Don't!"

            The warning came too late, for her fingers had already brushed his cheek when she drew back, alarmed. His skin was burning hot to the touch!

            Alanna clutched her hand in shock, the ember-stone revealing traces of red fire fading from it before she let it go.

            "Thom, you're… you look…"

            "Terrible. Horrendous. A monster," Thom replied acidly, "Half dead and good riddance." He turned away, leaving his bitter words to rain down on a stunned Alanna.

            She reached for him again in a gesture of comfort, then remembered and snatched her hand back just as he turned to face her again, his violet eyes too large in his bony face.

            "Go ahead, say it. Everyone else does! I have no right to live, it's only just that if I mess in affairs not meant for human hands that I take the place in the Realms of the Black God for the one I brought back…" he trailed of desolately, again turning away.

            Nonplussed, Alanna stumbled weakly to a chair and fell into it. Thom stood staring into the fireplace, watching flames dance before his eyes with his back still turned to Alanna. After a moment, Alanna got her emotions under control and said flatly,

            "Look, Thom, you've got to get help! You can't keep going on like this, you'll waste away to…" she broke off as Thom heaved a ragged cough. "You see?"

            Thom turned to glare at her. "You think I don't know myself how bad I'm doing? But what can I do?"

            "Find a healer, anyone!"

            Thom laughed harshly. "First find me a healer who'll come near me—none of them want to risk staining their Gifts with mine! And then, when you've found some healers who'll even _touch_ me, try narrowing the list down to ones who actually know what's wrong with me and how to cure it. I guarantee, there aren't going to be very many healers responding to a request like that! Even _I_ don't know what's wrong with me!"

            Alanna opened her mouth to respond but hastily closed it again, finding it empty of words—after all, what could she say? He spoke the truth.

            Thom laughed again. "No names to roll off? I thought not!"

            Alanna sucked in a breath, feeling all the worse because she knew that if Thom were well she would be angry at him for speaking to her so, while now she was not able to find it in her heart to do so.

            Thom turned back to look at her, every inch of him obviously in agonizing pain—a pain both mental and physical, and all the more hard to bear for being a blend of two kinds. "Look Alanna, I know I haven't got much time left, and you know it too. So let's not waste it like this."

            Alanna burst into tears. Thom reached out awkwardly to embrace her, then remembered and pulled his hand back as Alanna flinched unwillingly.

            Swiping at her face with the sleeve of her blouse, Alanna blinked back any more tears that threatened to fall and turned abruptly. "All right, Thom. But let's start with my next visit… you know we won't be able to start over from here." She looked back at him to see him give a tight nod of agreement as she managed a weak, crooked half-smile.

            She left and closed the door, unable to know that as soon as she was gone Thom flew into a crazed fit, his violet eyes gleaming dangerously as he hurled things around the room and finally tried to magically lift a chair too heavy for him to move with his hands alone—he succeeded only in setting it ablaze, the flames of magic burning red rather than the normal purple of his and Alanna's magics. Seeing this, he desperately uttered a quick, sharp word that was half sob, and immediately water that seemed to come from nowhere doused the fire, leaving only a smoking and wet charred piece of wood. However, even this didn't go right—the water continued to fall, gushing out of the air in a huge waterfall long after the fire was out, and obviously long after the cursing Thom had intended it to. It was too much—the young lord threw himself onto the couch, crying out tears of rage, confusion, and most of all, fear. He, Lord Thom, who had once in his short career been considered the most powerful mage in all the eastern lands, couldn't even perform a simple lifting spell without causing disaster to strike. What had he been reduced to?

***

so, hows everyone liking it so far? good, I hope! 

btw: if anyone has any ideas as to how this story should go, I really have _no_ idea!! I kind of made it really complicated for myself by putting in all the probs of Lioness Rampant… I guess I just wanted to see how an A/J monarchy would handle all of the problems a J/T monarchy did… but HELP!!!!!


	5. Worries

Ok, this chapter's for the jon fans who want them together… its sort of a compromise, tho, cause I really don't like jon and I don't want them to stay together!!!!! GROSS J sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***

Alanna shrank back against the wall, pulling herself out of view of the practice courts. She had been planning to use the afternoon to observe the senior pages practicing their swordsmanship—and possibly give them a few pointers of her own—but she suddenly found herself confronted with yet another problem she wanted to ignore: Liam Irornarm, the Shang Dragon. From her position against the wall, eyes closed in a futile attempt to block out the problems pressing down upon her, Alanna could hear Liam's shouts as he drilled the boys, accompanied by clangs of steel too swift to be coming from the same sword were it in the hand of one of the pages.

            Sighing and blinking back tears of frustration, tears that always seemed threatening to break through, Alanna stomped to the stables, wishing with all her heart that she was in the practice yards doing something _useful._ But she couldn't handle Liam right now—he had been another of her three lovers, but they had broken things off after his fear of her Gift became too great to allow them the intimacy they had previously shared. All the same, though, she had caught him eyeing her wistfully out of the corner of his eye quite often, and she knew he had secretly been against her marrying Jonathan.

            _At least he'll be gone soon,_ Alanna reminded herself. _People of Shang never stay in the same place for long_.

            But at the same time she knew that she didn't want him to leave. _I won't be making any new friends as queen,_ she thought bitterly. _I'll never be allowed to see anyone but old friends—maybe—and courtiers—for sure. I'll need to keep all the old friends I can._

            Suddenly it was too much—Thom, Roger, Liam, George—for she still remembered his kiss, and even worse, remembered the joy coursing through her at the familiar touch of his lips on hers. Something inside of her seemed to break, and she didn't know what was happening until, blinded by tears and deafened by her own racking sobs, she collided with something—someone?—and found herself curled up on the floor, gasping and crying uncontrollably.

            "Alanna? Alanna!" It took her a moment to realize that the gentle voice, sharpened by worry, belonged to Myles, her adoptive father. Through a haze of tears she looked up at him blankly, unable to focus her thoughts. "Myles?" she whispered detachedly.

            He nodded gravely, a frown forming on his round face. Quickly he helped her up, holding her as they walked out of the stable, her legs too shaky to support her on their own.

            "Alanna, what's the matter?" Myles asked after a moment, looking closely at her.

            Alanna just shook her head, her mind too much of a jumble to put together the words she needed to explain.

            Myles shook his head. "Here, let's go to my rooms. You'll be all right." Yet the obvious concern in his voice gave away his true feelings of alarm at seeing the normally strong and composed (except when she was in a temper) Lioness dissolved in tears and helpless against them.

            A few minutes later Alanna was comfortably situated in Myles's rooms, a cool, damp cloth over her forehead and glass of fruit juice beside her. When her hiccupping subsided, Myles stared at her intently, as if trying to understand what was going on behind her impenetrable violet eyes.

            "Now, talk," he commanded, although kindly. "What's the matter? I must say, it worries me to see you like this… it's not like you."

            Alanna smiled weakly, now feeling a bit foolish—had anyone seen her? Yet at the same time she couldn't help but feeling that her outbreak had been justified. Who could deal with her life? Certainly not her!

            She paused for a moment, unsure of where of to begin, but then took a deep breath and plunged in, pouring out all her worries and feelings—everything except the kiss she had shared with George Cooper.

            When she was finished she lay back and closed her eyes, feeling strangely devoid of all emotion for one blissful moment—but then Myles spoke and everything came flooding back, hitting her so hard she felt an almost physical pain.

            "Alanna—I'm sorry. I just don't know what else to say… except that I'm sorry." He looked at her kindly, concern seeping out of his very expression. "I wish you had been better prepared for this marriage—if only the King…" he trailed off, composing himself as pain flashed briefly across his face before continuing, "… if only you'd had more time to think it over, consider everything that would happen to you." He paused again, longer this time, and when she looked at him his face betrayed an inner conflict, as if he was debating whether or not he should say his next words; the latter choice won.

            "Frankly," he said quickly, his voice flat, "I don't believe you made the right choice."

            Alanna sat up abruptly, staring at Myles, aghast, as tears once again filled her eyes. He immediately looked sorry, but she shook her head before he could speak again.

            "Don't say anything else!" she cried, pain in her voice. "I know it was the wrong choice! That's what I've been telling you… only in not those words!"

            Before she could start to cry again she jumped up and ran for the door, stopping when she felt a hand on her shoulder, surprisingly strong for the short knight behind her.

            "Wait, Alanna! I didn't mean that—I know it wasn't your fault that you were rushed into this, and I know that you love Jon—you just don't love the life that comes with him! That's all I meant!"

            Alanna nodded quickly, saying tersely, "I'm sorry Myles, I've just had a hard day. I'm not mad at you, and you're right—but I need to be alone right now, all right?"

            He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then nodded and opened the door for her, not saying anything as she left.

            Once around a corner, Alanna leaned against a wall and blinked back another fit of tears. Yes, she _had loved_ Jon—but the question had returned, did she _still_ love him? She must—she had married him! She was his queen! Yes, of course she still loved Jon… suddenly George's handsome, laughing face flashed across her mind. _No!_ she screamed silently, balling her fists and biting her tongue to keep her from speaking aloud. _I don't love George—I _can't_ love George! I'm married to _Jonathan!

            As if to enforce her point, Jonathan rounded the corner, and Alanna felt sick.

            "Alanna! What's the matter?" Jon took in her tear-stained face and red-rimmed eyes, rushing over to encase her in a warm hug before pulling back and looking over her, worry flashing across his handsome features. "What's the matter?" he repeated.

            "I—I just—I'm worried about Thom," she lied quickly—at least it was partially true. "I went to see him yesterday, and he's… not doing so well."

            Jon hugged her again, holding her tightly as he led her down the hallway and up the stairs to their rooms. "It's all right, Alanna. Thom will be fine," he reassured her, making his voice strong enough to half-convince her for a moment before she noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. "I promise that I'll do everything in my power to make him fine—no price is too much to pay for the queen's brother."

            Alanna just nodded, having nothing to say. He squeezed her shoulders comfortingly, and after a moment she said quietly, "Thanks, Jon."

            "I love you, Alanna," was his soft reply.

            When she didn't reply, he repeated, "I love you, Alanna." Still she was silent. "Look at me."

            Unwillingly she did, violet eyes locking onto sapphire ones. "I said I love you, Alanna," he was whispering now, as he leaned over to kiss her.

            For a moment she wanted to pull away, for they had never made up after their half-fight a few days earlier, but she was just so tired—she didn't think she was up to yet another struggle, yet another problem, right now. Surrendering, she kissed him back, warmth surging through her and making her limp. Jonathan laughed, saying roughly as they broke apart, "I take that as agreement."

            Alanna smiled, remembering now why she loved Jon, her other worries dissolving as she tilted her face for another kiss. Laughing again in his deep voice, Jon complied, lifting her up and carrying her into their room as they reached it, kicking the door shut behind them.

***

well, hope you liked this much…. And if anyone has any ideas they will be very welcome cause I really have no idea what's gonna happen next!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! R/R **_PLEASE!!!!!!!!!_**


	6. The Great Visitor

***

Alanna shivered with delight as she watched Jonathan glide out of the room, giving her a final wink as he exited; she could feel his warm hands on her, his warm lips on her mouth. Against her will, George's face flashed across her face again, and suddenly all her happy ecstasy disappeared, leaving her reaching for the feeling that had been swallowed up by something and left her with an empty void that ached for the warmth that had once filled it. She could feel herself dissolving into tears again, but abruptly the old Alanna she remembered flared back to life inside her, and her tears dried with the fire of suppressed fury that burned deep within her.

            Faithful yowled from under the bed, sticking out his black head as he said sarcastically, _Are you all done embarrassing me, or is _he_ going to come back again? If he is, open that door and let me out!_

            Grateful for her pet, Alanna picked him up and set him next to her on the bed, saying tartly, "You enjoyed every minute of it."

            Faithful made an indignant noise and set about cleaning his paws. Smiling, Alanna stood and stretched. At least her cat still treated her normally, exactly the way he had before she married Jonathan. Faithful eyed her as she began to dress, pulling on the discarded shirt and pair of breeches that were lying in a tangle on the floor. As she hunted for her tunic, she felt a rush of power glide through the air and stiffened. When she summoned the resolve to straighten, she was not surprised by what she saw, yet she was still fearful. Hardly able to tear her eyes from the perfect figure before her, Alanna dropped reverently to her knees and forced words over her frozen tongue. "Great Mother—I—". 

            The Great Mother Goddess reached out a slender, perfectly white hand and placed it on Alanna's shoulder. "Rise, my daughter." Her voice rang with the sound of the baying of dogs on a hunt, echoing in Alanna's ears. The girl tried not to wince as her ears throbbed painfully, rising and looking into the goddess's eyes as the hand, delicate yet immeasurably strong, forced her chin up. Deep black eyes bored into violet ones for a long moment, and Alanna felt as if her soul was being shone out into the pools of black. Then the hold was broken; although the goddess continued to meet Alanna's eyes with her own, somehow the fierce force of power staring into her seemed to depart, leaving only two pairs of eyes.

            "Why are you surprised with this visit, daughter?" the Goddess asked gently. "Did you expect me to abandon you now, in your most dire moments?"

            Unable to speak, Alanna shook her head quickly, forcing down fear inside of her. She had met the Goddess before this, and never once had she been harmed, so why should she be afraid? Yet it seemed an impossible task to dismiss the fear of this great being standing before her, in her own bedroom. The fear seemed right, as though she would mean dishonor to the Goddess by having no fear.

            The Goddess laughed kindly, and Alanna blushed furiously as she realized the Goddess could read her thoughts.

            "Indeed, one without fear of me would be quite the fool." A pause. "But you, my daughter, are not the fool—although you believe yourself to be at this moment."

            Alanna reddened even more. "Yes, I do believe myself a fool," she snapped, thinking of her problems with Jonathan and George. Her expression turned to one of horror in the next instant. "No disrespect, my lady! I just…" she trailed off, staring at the floor in shame.

            Cool fingers once again lifted her chin up. "I understand, child. And you must understand that I will not interfere with your path—and as I told you years ago, the path you walk is a hard one. You have endured it well thus far, and I am well pleased with you. I also recall I gave you advice—that love would ease the path. And I see that you have learned to love. But now you must learn to let go, as well. Too many loves will not suit you."

            Alanna's head dropped forward again, and she closed her eyes in pain, whispering, "I know, Mother. I know." As thoughts rushed through her head in turmoil, she heard Faithful yowling and dimly realized she could not understand him, no matter how hard she tried. The goddess laughed once, and then there was silence. Alanna lifted her head a blink of an eye later, but the Great Goddess was gone, leaving behind only a slight shimmering of magic in the air and the echoes of her voice as though they drifted across a wind far away: "Hard times will follow. Do not disappoint me, daughter!"

            "I'll do my best." Alanna spoke the words to the air, but she knew the Goddess could hear her.

            She turned shakily to Faithful as she clutched the ember stone hanging around her neck for comfort. Her cat was sitting calmly on the bed, but she could see traces of longing fading back into his purple eyes.

            "You want to go home, don't you?" Alanna breathed in a voice less than a whisper. She knew by now that Faithful had come to her from the Goddess, to be a help to her—and although Faithful would never admit to it, he knew that Alanna knew. Now he shook his black head, leaping into her arms to bat a playful paw at her cheek. _Don't worry, I won't abandon you,_ he mewed gently. After a short pause he added in his normal tone, _If I did, what would become of the kingdom? Leaving it to the whim of a bad-tempered lady knight—not me!_

            Alanna grinned, satisfied that things were back to normal, and dropped Faithful back on the bed. "You think too highly of yourself," she informed him, finding her tunic and pulling it over her head. Faithful sniffed airily as she gave him a quick pat and disappeared out the door, leaving him to laugh quietly to himself, sitting snugly in a pile of mussed bedclothes.

            Closing the door behind her, Alanna hurried down to the stables. Thankfully no one was about—although Stefan must be up in the hayloft somewhere—and she was free to sit in a corner of Moonlight's stall and think without interruption. If her horse thought it was odd for her mistress to curl up in a pile of straw in the corner of a stall, she did nothing but gently nibble Alanna's fiery red locks. Petting Moonlight's nose absentmindedly, Alanna said out loud, "I just don't know what to do, girl." She heaved a long sigh. "Maybe someday things will work themselves out, do you think?"

            Moonlight whickered gently in reply, shaking her head and sending her silky mane flying. Alanna grinned, saying dryly, "Well, thanks for being honest. I didn't think so either."

            Of course there was no magic solution. Life _had_ no solutions. It was just a hopeless muddle that you had to wade through alone.

***

as everyone can probably see, im just stalling for time with this chapter—I DON'T KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN!! Please, suggestions!!!!!!!! Need help. ;-)

and for all the jon fans—im sorry, but I really don't like jon! Ill do my best to keep them together though—I know alanna did marry him and that should count for something. :-P

if anyone has any MUCH NEEDED suggestions, email me at narao812@hotmail.com or post a review.(please please please??)


	7. Anything for a Hero

Okay, everyone, heres the next part… please bear w/ me and read the whole thing! :)

***

As Alanna rode out of the palace gates she pulled Moonlight up to a walk, her hands moist with nervous sweat. Moonlight obeyed, although puzzled—her mistress hardly ever went anywhere at a slower pace than a trot. But Alanna wanted time, needed time so much that she even futilely endeavored to save a few minutes by traveling to the Dancing Dove at a walk rather than the usual trot or canter.

            As she rode she rehearsed possible speeches in her mind, eventually beginning to speak out loud, murmuring under her breath.

            "George, I know that you and I have always been friends, but…"

            "I'm sorry, but there can't be anything but friendship between us."

            "You know I've married Jon, which means he's my husband and only lover…"

            Alanna gave up, disgusted with herself. Everything she said sounded stupider than the last. She sighed deeply, knowing that she _must_ think of something. The Goddess had practically told her in plain words that she needed to break things off with George, cut any ties between them but friendship. But it was just so hard… Alanna would rather fight a real enemy, one that she could touch, any day, with a sword in her hand, than fight the love she couldn't even admit she had for George, a love that was hidden deep in her heart. To wipe out the love she would need to cut out a part of her heart, an impossible task.

            Her wish was granted immediately. Lost in her thoughts, Alanna didn't realize that something was wrong even when Moonlight, usually a calm and cool-witted mare, jerked her head up, flaring her nostrils in alarm and dancing around skittishly. Alanna, lost in her thoughts, merely reined in her horse and whispered distractedly for Moonlight to calm down. Later Alanna cursed herself for being so stupid, for letting her emotions take over her common sense and forcing her guard down.

            Before the flame-haired queen knew what was happening four black-clad men on horseback had surrounded her and formed a tight circle around Moonlight, forcing the horse and rider into a side alley. Alanna opened her mouth to yell but before she could she felt magic shimmer through the air and suddenly her jaws were clamped together by the fire of someone's Gift. Immediately she fought back, straining to open her mouth with physical and magical force, at the same time reaching for Lightning in the belt at her side. She could feel the magical bonds around her jaws straining, the magic fire almost burning out—the wielder of the Gift was very weak, his Gift nothing compared to hers.

            As soon as they had reached the cover of the alley the Gifted attacker dropped his magical gag, and one of the men slumped over in his saddle, gasping for breath. Alanna had a brief moment of triumph to gloat that such a short magical struggle exhausted the man so much before a hand took the place of the magical gag. Moonlight reared up in protest as Alanna let out a muffled scream, but the faithful mare's actions proved to be almost fatal for Alanna; while grappling with one hand to remove the attacker's hand from her mouth and with the other to free Lightning from her sword belt, Alanna wasn't prepared for a rearing horse and slid off to the ground.

            The man gagging her was surprised and loosened his hold for the briefest moment, but a moment long enough for Alanna to take stock of situation and twist her head away as she grabbed her sword hilt and whipped Lightning up and through the air. The man let out a yell as Lightning sliced through a muscle in his arm, but immediately the other three were on her, the Gifted one having regained some strength. Moonlight, forgotten, aimed a kick at one man's back, and he dropped as steel-shod hoof connected with spine, emitting a sickening crack. The other two didn't even flinch as they charged her together, the one she had injured following a second later. Alanna jumped to her feet, swinging Lightning in a wide arc to warn them away. They were not deterred, however, and all bore blades of their own, gleaming wickedly in the sunlight.

            Alanna tried to fight down panic; anyone crazy enough to attack the Queen of Tortall in broad daylight was crazy enough to kill her, and besides, these large men had muscles bulging threateningly underneath sturdy black tunics. And Alanna was no match for wrestlers.

            She didn't let any of the panic show in her face, though, as she switched Lightning to her left hand, parrying blows from two swords at once, and reached for one of her hidden daggers with her right hand. Her hand closed around the hilt as the third attacker's sword flashed by and cut deeply into her right shoulder. Unable to keep back a sharp cry of pain as fire burned through her arm, Alanna wrenched the dagger out and threw herself at the man. He gave a gasp of surprise and fell backwards, Alanna's dagger buried in his chest.

            But the move cost her: as Alanna leapt forward one of the other attackers knocked Lightning out of her hand, and it flew to land harmlessly a few feet away. Before Alanna could yell out or reach for another dagger, the two men were upon her, pinning her arms to her sides and one of them clapping a hand over her mouth. Alanna nearly fainted as her injured arm was wrenched behind her back. The next instant real panic set in as one of the attackers used his free hand to raise his gleaming blade in a final blow. Alanna struggled helplessly, hardly able to move in their vice-like grips, and for one fleeting moment the thought crossed her mind, _The last thing I will ever see is sun glinting off the sword that will bring about my death… and I will never see George again._ Somehow the thought was enough to make her fight again, her eyes still closed in a stubborn effort as she refused to look her impending death in the face.

            The next instant she heard a whuff of ragged breath escape a man, and her eyes flew open in time to see one of the attackers slump forward and fall to the ground, his unseeing eyes taking in the ground as blood pooled around the dagger sprouting from his back. The one attacker left dropped Alanna's arm and whirled to face the man who had killed his comrade. With a final spurt of energy, Alanna grabbed a second dagger and hurled it into his back unthinkingly. Immediately she regretted her action; four dead men couldn't tell her who their boss was.

            The next instant she had collapsed on the ground, and darkness set in.

***

When Alanna awoke her first instinct was to run and attack anyone around her, but in the next moment she remembered that all her attackers were dead. She was sitting on something soft, leaning against a warm body. Dimly remembering that someone had saved her, Alanna turned her head around, to look up into a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

            "George?" she whispered in disbelief, blinking. But when her eyes opened the face was still there.

            Immediately the strong arm around her waist tightened.

            "Alanna! Mithros, I thought you were…"

            Alanna shook her head, her temper flaring back to life. "George, I'm a knight! You know I can defend myself," she snapped.

            Normally George would have chuckled benevolently at this point, but instead he continued as if he hadn't heard her, whispering brokenly.

            "Alanna, I don't know what I would have done if… if anything had happened to you… because I had to tell you one more time that no matter whose wife you are, even the King of Tortall's, I still love you."

            George had been in the middle of bandaging up her shoulder, and he continued to do so, averting his eyes from her face, as she stared at him, emotion swelling in her and becoming impossible to bear.

            "George, I…" the words she had been practicing on the way over failed her, and instead what came out of her mouth was, "I love you too."

            George's hands stopped moving, the bandage finished, but he didn't remove them from her shoulder as his face snapped up, his eyes boring into hers. Alanna could feel his hands trembling slightly, hope for the impossible brightening his eyes.

            "You… you love me?" he whispered, his words barely audible.

            "George, it's so hard to explain! I made a mistake with Jon, but I'm married to him now, and… well, now he has to be my only lover! But George… I can't stand it anymore, because I do, I really do still love you!" Alanna's voice broke and she turned away.

            Strong hands turned it back to George. "Alanna," he said firmly, "is that all true?"

            Miserable, Alanna nodded, fighting to keep her calm. This was just too much!

            But then George kissed her, and all thoughts escaped her as the thief filled every inch of her mind. Before either knew what was happening, they were lying in a tumble on George's bed, lips pressed together.

            Suddenly George broke away, rasping, "Alanna… we… we can't." His face betrayed his inner desires, though, the words sounding alien on his tongue.

            Knowing as she said the words the mistake she was making but unable to help herself at the same time, Alanna said resolutely, although her voice shook, "No, George. I owe you for saving my life. I'll do anything for my hero."

            George made no argument, powerless to resist what he had been longing for since he had first found out Squire Alan's true identity.

A/N: ok, finished. Ugh…. I don't like writing romance, even alanna/george (*heart*) romance! Hehe. But anyway, I needed to write this part for the rest of the story to unfold. (yes, I sort of have an idea now… hope it works out!) and probably the chapters will be longer now, cause im outta school and have more time. (YAY! YAYAYAYAYAY!!!) so anyway, put up w/ me! *grin*

AHEM, REVIEWS PLEASE!! They make me so very happy…… *hint, hint*


	8. Guilty Freedom

***

"Please, Jon! You _have_ to let me go! I need to get away from the palace… and you know I can do good against the Scanrans!"

            Jon shook his head doubtfully. "I don't doubt you can do good… but Alanna, I don't want anything to happen to you! Especially with four men attacking you…"

            Alanna took a deep breath, trying to calm her blazing temper, knowing a fight with Jon wouldn't help her get her way. "Jon, I can take care of myself! I passed all the same tests you did to become a knight." Her voice sounded clipped to her own ears.

            Jon frowned. "Alanna, you know I only say this because I care about you. I can't let you go and risk your life!"

            "Jon, I didn't become a knight to be kept away from battlefields for the rest of my life." Her tone was more affable now, but inside Alanna was seething. _I don't give a damn why you're saying it! You're wrong!_ she thought furiously.

            Jon heaved a sigh. "Alanna, can we talk later? I don't have time for this right now!"

            Alanna could contain herself no longer. "No, we can't talk later! I can't take this anymore… I can't take any more being an ornament that can be placed beside you and shown off to the kingdom. If you'd wanted that, you should have taken Princess Josiane or Delia of Eldorne. I'm not for show—I'm real."

            Alanna's words cut Jon, and she knew it. She watched in cold satisfaction for a moment as color burned into his cheeks, then added icily, "I'm going. Now."

            Before he could respond she slammed out of the room, and was halfway down the stairs when he caught up to her, roughly taking hold of her arm and dragging her back into the room. Alanna was angry enough to reach for Lightning to teach Jon a lesson, cursing when she remembered that her weapons belt was not to be found around the waist of a dress.

            "Jon, let go!" she cried as he grabbed her other, injured arm.

            Quickly he dropped it. "Sorry, I forgot…"

            Angrily Alanna pulled the other arm away from him, snapping. "Of course you forgot. You forget everything about me lately. Or have you suddenly remembered that I'm a lady knight, not one of those ornaments I just mentioned?"

            Stung, Jon stepped back. "Alanna, look, we need to talk. I know you don't like this life, but… well, you wanted to share life with me! And this is the price of me. Don't you think I'm worth it?"

            Stunned by his arrogance, Alanna simply stared at him, trying to remember if he'd been quite that way in the desert. Yes, in fact, he had, that's why she had almost refused his marriage proposition. Now Alanna couldn't remember why she had loved him… how could she have loved him when George had been right there all along?

            Thinking of George, Alanna's face burned. Jon, thinking Alanna's blush was a sign of remorse and apology, stepped forward and tried to embrace her. Immediately she sidestepped him, exclaiming, 

            "Stop it! I don't want to make up and just have this disappear! We're not all right, and we won't be until you can talk to me without involving yourself!"

            Jonathan's face hardened. "Fine. We won't talk. But don't expect to go to the Scanran border. You're the queen, whether you like it or not, so accept it!" Now it was his turn to go storming out. Alanna made no move to stop him.

            As soon as he was gone, Alanna went to the chest at the foot of their bed and opened it. Inside lay her "real" clothing, as she liked to say—tunics, shirts, and breeches. Tearing off the dress and throwing it aside, Alanna donned a set of clothes from the chest and packed six more sets into a leather saddlebag resting underneath the bed. Faithful appeared as she packed, eyeing her without saying a word as he licked his paws.  
            In minutes Alanna was finished. Before leaving she scribbled a hasty note on a piece of parchment:

George- 

            _I need a break from my life and time to think, so I've gone to the desert. Please don't tell Jonathan where I've gone._

_                                                -Alanna_

***

            Alanna grinned as Moonlight galloped across the Great Desert, the wind teasing her flaming locks and throwing singing sand into her face.

            "Finally, freedom," she cried to Faithful.

            Her cat yowled appreciatively, but added sarcastically, "You're still married to the king, and you're still the Queen of Tortall. Yes, perfect freedom."

            Alanna slapped her cat lightly with the reins, and he swatted back with his paws, hissing as he swayed in his cup and had to hook his claws into it to stay put. Alanna couldn't help laughing and reached out to pet his head in apology.

            "You'd better be sorry," Faithful grumbled, resettling himself comfortably in his saddle cup.

            They rode on through the night, stopping at last to sleep as the first rays of sunlight touched the horizon. Exhausted but content, Alanna curled up in her bedroll with her cat and fell asleep listening to the free air blow across the endless, peaceful sand.

***

A few days later Alanna found herself warmly welcomed back into the tribe of the Bloody Hawk. Alone in her tent, she changed out of the too-warm tunic and breeches into a comfortable burnoose, settling herself on a soft pile of cushions and rugs for a nap. When she woke it was just after sunset, and without thinking she stepped out of the tent, only to have Faithful give her a quick nip on the ankle to bring her back inside. She glared fiercely at her cat until he explained, _They're communing with the Voice… and I didn't think you wanted to be part of that today._

            Alanna shuddered at the thought. She had never felt comfortable communing with the Voice, even before the Voice was Jonathan, and especially now she wouldn't want him to know her secret thoughts! Shaking her head, she thanked Faithful and plopped down on the cushions again to eat the fruit and bread someone had left for her.

            Suddenly she sat bolt upright. "Jonathan will know where I am now! Certainly at least one person in the tribe will let him know I'm here…"

            Immediately she was up, throwing things back into her bag. Faithful watched silently, at last saying lightly, _Leaving so soon?_

            "Quiet!" Alanna snapped, chewing her thumbnail. Thinking out loud, she added, "We'll have to leave as soon as they're finishing communing with the Voice. We'll need to take some food with us, we're out…" she trailed off, leaving one question still unanswered: where would she go?

            As if reading her thoughts, Faithful commented, _I suppose we're not going back to Corus?_

            "Damn right we're not going back to Corus! Not back to Jon…" Alanna rubbed her aching head, wishing she didn't get such a headache when she thought of Jon. If only she could convince herself that her fight with Jon wasn't just an excuse to get away from the palace when it was really her guilt for her forbidden actions with George that had driven her this far…

            _No!_ she scolded herself. _It's not that! I was wrong about Jonathan… George is the right one for me! And I do _not_ feel guilty about sleeping with him… because some things are meant to be._

            But she couldn't wholly convince herself. No matter how hard she tried, she still felt those nagging feelings of guilt for breaking her marriage vows of reserving her body now for Jon and Jon alone.

***

I know I promised longer chapters…. But I guess ill have to wait to keep that promise till chapter nine. :) sorry about that… hey but to show you how much I LOVE reviews (hint, hint, hint, hint!!!) im going to respond to all of the reviewers for the previous chapter here (yeah I know I stole that from a bunch of people… but it was a good idea…) anyway, I hope itll encourage ppl to write more reviews… more reviews? Wow, what a good idea!! (HINT!!!)

**Liviania:** I guess I meant sorry for the romance part… even tho I love A/G romance.. I guess it was more of an apology for those crazy a/j people!! (sorry to you guys… but a/g, come on now!! Hehe) and thanks… I was wondering if the fight scene was ok, for some reason it just seemed like there might have been a problem w/ it but I wasn't sure what…

**AsaHekA aka Slone:** and don't worry, jon WILL NOT be a happy man!!  Hehe. And im sure he'll find out… im just not sure how yet.. but again sorry to a/j fans, I just don't think theres a happy ending in store for king jonathan. I know I used to like him in the first two SOTL books, but in the third I really started to hate him… hes just too stuck up. :)

Ok, now go get more ppl to read and review my story!! :)


	9. Complications

A week later Alanna awoke in the middle of the night, a cry of alarm tearing from her throat. Gasping for breath as she wiped nervous sweat from her forehead, the young knight jumped out of her bedroll and furiously began to throw saddlebags onto Moonlight's waiting back. The mare whinnied nervously, but seemed to calm when Faithful jumped into his cup and placed a comforting paw on Moonlight's neck.

            Alanna had no time to wonder at this curiosity, too busy rolling up her bedroll and lashing it to the saddle.

            _What's all this fuss about?_ Faithful asked in a bored tone, turning to fix her with his violet gaze.

            Alanna shook her head. "We have to go, _now!_ I dreamed of Roger… I knew he was up to no good, Faithful! He still wants the crown of Tortall placed on his own head… and I've got to stop him!"

            Alanna could recall only too clearly the cruel smile on Roger's face as he murdered Jonathan and placed the king's crown on his black head.

            _But I thought you hated Jonathan._ Faithful queried innocently. Alanna paused a moment, turning to face her cat.

            "I may be angry with Jonathan, but I don't want him to die!" she exclaimed. Faithful shrugged and twitched his tail, but said nothing more as Alanna finished tying up her bags and mounted. Glaring at Faithful for thinking she could want Jon to die, Alanna spurred Moonlight on and they galloped off across the desert.

            As they rode, Alanna touched Lightning's hilt for comfort. Unexpectedly she felt a weird jolt of cold force its way out of the sword and into her, snaking through her fingers and up her arm until it was suddenly present throughout her entire body. Alanna tried to pull her hand away but she couldn't; an alarmingly strong force of magic held it there. Unbidden, thoughts began to steal into her mind.

            _Or _do_ I want Jonathan to die? Then I would be free to go off with George… and then Jon wouldn't be there to remind me of my guilt at sleeping with George!_ These thoughts poured into her head, slowly pushing back the part of herself that fought against them and burying it beneath an icy wall of orange fire.

            Faithful, agitated, yowled in protest as Alanna's eyes took on a glazed look and the hand clasping Lightning's hilt clenched around it in an iron grip. His remonstrations had no effect on his mistress, though. Alanna was lost in a dark world of evil thoughts. Abruptly a sharp stinging sensation on her arm jolted her, for a moment, out of the web of magic. Although brief, the moment of pain resulting from Faithful's sharp teeth piercing her skin was enough for her to regain control of herself and wrench her hand away from Lightning. Immediately the coldness left her body, as if it had never been, leaving Alanna gasping for breath and shuddering at the memory of the awful icy fire coursing through her.

            "Evil," Alanna croaked, grabbing Faithful in a fierce hug of thanks. The cat squirmed out of her arms and jumped to her shoulder, admonishing, _Where would you be without me? Dead. Now stop choking me!_

            Alanna tried to laugh, but the sound stuck in her throat. "Evil," she repeated, closing her eyes. "It was evil. Half of Lightning is that other sword, the one we found in the desert that I used to put Lightning back together." Her eyes flew open as a revelation hit her. "_It was Roger! _I could feel his magic inside of me… his Gift must have been in that sword!" Alanna began shaking as she realized that Roger's evil Gift had been filling every inch of her body only moments earlier. "It was trying to take me over… it was trying to make me believe I wanted Jonathan to…" Alanna stopped, unable to finish the sentence out loud.

            _Why are _you_ afraid of _him_?_ Faithful asked reasonably. _You're the one who killed him, after all, and not the other way around!_

            "Yes, but once dead should be always dead," Alanna whispered. Faithful had no reply to that, because of course it was true. Two deaths for one man was unnatural and frightening, especially if the man who lived past death was wholly and completely evil.

***

Once back in Corus, Alanna couldn't help but go to see George before returning to the palace. After all, what could an hour or so matter? Roger wouldn't strike today. Preoccupied with convincing herself of this, Alanna failed to notice three men dressed in dark clothing following her, slipping in and out of the shadows created by the sunset. Faithful, eyes glued in a dainty white female cat, purred his approval at her but also failed to notice the men and warn his mistress.

            Alanna found George in the common room of the Dancing Dove, idly flipping a knife around with a practiced hand. When Alanna entered he sprang to his feet, rushing over to envelop her in a tight embrace.

            "Alanna! I've been so worried about you…thank Mithros you're back safe!"

            Alanna gently pushed George off of her. "You _know_ I can take care of myself!" she snapped, but she wasn't truly angry with the thief and didn't protest as he leaned down to kiss her warmly. Alanna felt giddy as she kissed him back—too giddy. Suddenly the room spun crazily and she felt herself slipping into blackness.

            The next thing the young queen knew, she was lying on a soft bed, a familiar face slowly coming into focus. Alanna tried to sit up, but Mistress Cooper gently but firmly pushed her down again, saying soothingly,

            "Lie still, now. You just fainted, is all, and you'll be all right in a moment. I'll get you some tea."

            Alanna did as she was told. "But why did I faint?" The kind healer said nothing, but Alanna thought a smile was tugging at the older woman's mouth. Annoyed, she sat up again. "Mistress Cooper, what's going on?" As George's mother returned to her side, Alanna lowered her head back to the pillow beneath it, feeling small and confused.

            Smiling benevolently, the woman said, "Tell me Alanna, you truly don't know already?"

            "No, I don't! Tell me!" Alanna snapped, fear sharpening her temper. What was going on?

            To Alanna's annoyance, Eleni Cooper chuckled. "Don't worry, child, it's nothing terrible. But I suppose I must be the bringer of good news… right now you're carrying a little prince or princess inside of you!"

            For a moment Alanna didn't understand, but then realization hit her and she sat bolt upright, stunned.

            "You… you mean I'm _pregnant_?" she whispered. Mistress Cooper nodded, a huge smile on her face. "Just to think that I was the one to announce to the Queen of Tortall the good news of her first child!" the woman beamed.

            Unable to accept that what Mistress Cooper said was true, Alanna probed inside herself with her own magic, and sure enough, she felt the fire of her Gift glide over a tiny life deep inside of her. Frightened, the young woman pulled away at the feel of a still forming child touching her magic, but she was unable to help herself from probing again, curious—for something just didn't feel right about the child inside of her.

            And then Alanna understood. Frozen with shock and horror, Alanna's eyes flew to Mistress Cooper. Mistaking the lady knight's distress for fear of the pregnancy and childbirth, the woman gave Alanna a hug and said comfortingly,

            "Don't worry. For someone as strong and stubborn as you, no harm will come during your pregnancy and childbirth. Come now, how about that tea?"

            But Alanna shook her head. Much as she would have welcomed a soothing cup of tea, other things must be first taken care of.

            "No, I'm sorry, but I must get back to the palace."

            Mistress Cooper winked knowingly. "Of course, you must be eager to go let the father know." She patted Alanna's stomach.

            Alanna nodded, not knowing what else to do. "Where… where's George?"

            Grinning wickedly, Mistress Cooper walked to the door and yanked it open, sending George tumbling to the floor.

            "What a familiar scene. I've told you to stop listening at keyholes, son!" Mistress Cooper reprimanded.

            Red-faced, George picked himself up and started to give Alanna a hug, then noticed the watchful eyes of his mother and changed the hug to a pat on the shoulder.

            "So you're… well, congratulations," George said, but Alanna could tell his heart was not behind the words he spoke.

            "Thank you," Alanna said stiffly. "I must be going now. George, you want to walk me back to Moonlight? I left her at the Dancing Dove."

            George nodded. "All right. Goodbye, Mother."

            Mistress Cooper gave Alanna a last hug and then shooed the two out the door, shaking her head as they went. As the door closed behind them she said aloud, "George, George… you must see that it's a lost cause. Still, if only _she_ could see how much it hurts you that she married Jonathan, and not you. But of course, how could a King of Thieves stand a chance against a King of Tortall?"

            Upon reaching the Dancing Dove, George started for the stables and was startled when Alanna pulled him back into a dark alley.

            "What's going on?" George asked. Seeing that Alanna was trembling, George wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Here, let's go inside… you must be cold and tired."

            "No." The forcefulness in Alanna's voice surprised George, and he turned back to look at her carefully.

            "Alanna, tell me what's the matter, and tell me why we can't discuss it inside."

            Alanna was silent for a moment, and George saw with alarm that she was fighting tears.

            "Alanna." The lady knight, who had been staring at the ground, tilted her face to meet his gaze. Still holding her, George kissed her gently, and her trembling grew worse.

            "Wait, stop," Alanna said, reluctantly pushing George away. The thief pulled back. Taking a deep breath, Alanna whispered, "George, I have to tell you something…" she paused again.

            "Alanna, what is it?" George prompted.

            Flatly, Alanna spoke the words she couldn't believe were true, spitting them out quickly before she could lose her nerve. "I felt with my magic, and the child inside of me isn't Jonathan's, it's yours."

A/N: okay, okay… so everyone knew what was gonna happen. ;) still, couldn't help myself! Ummmmm…. Oh, right, sorry if I messed up the thing about the sword… I don't have my books w/ me and I couldn't remember if alanna found out that roger made the sword in the third or fourth book.

**Liviania:** thanks for reading so faithfully and reviewing all the time. :) and yeah, the third book was the one that made me dislike jon…. He was just so stuck up and annoying! Oh well, I guess resentments die hard…. Hehe. So im making him kinda like that in this one, so I wont feel so bad about alanna sleeping w/ george. *grin*

**Kolinshar Jackie-chan Benito:** actually I was considering sending alanna back to trebond, but then this sort of worked out. Thanx for the review!!

**AsaHekA aka Slone:** yup, right on… the GG never did say which guy to let go of! :)

**Kementari: **I know, a/j just does NOT work! And yes, I wish they had divorce back then… it would make things SO much easier for me…. Hehe, I know, im lazy. :) ill think of something, though… but I agree that Alanna couldn't handle being sole ruler of tortall, that's why I haven't killed jon yet. Hehe.

**AmayaNightRain11:** yeah, ive been toying w/ yur idea… not sure yet, tho. Hehe, I don't want jon to be happy is all… *grins wickedly*

So anyway, everyone, THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!!! I luv reviews, they make me want to write more… so thanx!!!!!!!!!


	10. A Proposition

Duke Roger nodded to the nervous looking servant standing before him, who hurried to bow in a dark-haired knight. The young man bowed slightly to the duke and the green-eyed woman sitting beside him, a thin smile pulling at his secretive and normally serious face.

            "Alex. And what brings you here at this hour of the night? Something important, I hope." Roger's tone, although light, held a threatening undertone.

            Alexander of Tirragen was not intimidated. "Of course, Your Grace. Very important news." His dark eyes glittered as they flicked briefly to Delia of Eldorne, taking in the power-hungry look on the young woman's face.

            Roger coughed slightly. "Delia, my pet, would you excuse us for a moment?"

            Pouting, Delia protested, "But I'd like to hear this 'important news'."

            Roger frowned. "I said to excuse us for a moment, Delia."

            Catching the contained impatience in the duke's voice, Delia rose and flounced out, casting Alex a haughty look.

            As soon as Delia was gone, Roger nodded to Alex. "What have you found?"

            Alex's eyes gleamed dangerously as he spoke. "Some of my men in Corus spied Alanna the Lioness entering the city this evening." He paused, letting Roger wonder for a moment before the duke demanded, "And?"

            Alex smiled darkly, continuing, "They followed her to the Dancing Dove, where she apparently fainted. An unidentified man carried her out, and my men followed them to the house of a Mistress Cooper, a healer. They then alerted me of her presence and I hurried to the city as quickly as possible. We thought we had lost her for a moment, but then I heard her voice in an alley near the Dancing Dove. Although I didn't see the face or catch the name of the man she was with, I did overhear their conversation." He paused again, and again Roger prompted impatiently, "And _what_ exactly did you overhear?"

            "I overheard our Lady Knight announce that she is pregnant…" he let the silence hang again, long enough for Roger to grumble irritably, "Is that all? Wonderful, so we now have one more to dispose of before I can take the throne."

            "… with the child of someone who is not King Jonathan."

            It took a moment for Alex's words to sink in. When they did, Roger leapt to his feet, face white, and grabbed Alex's arm. "Are you certain of this?" he whispered hoarsely.

            Alex nodded firmly. "I heard the words with my own ears."

            Roger began to laugh. "So," he chuckled maliciously, "We finally have completely power over the untamable Lioness."

            "But, milord, one more thing. We also overheard the queen later telling this unidentified man that although she didn't love King Jonathan anymore, she had to save his life."

            "Save his life? From what?"

            "Us," Alex replied in a hard voice. "She knows, Roger."

***

"Ah, my Queen, I finally have the luck of catching you without a partner. Care to duel with me?"

            Alanna jumped at the voice behind her and whirled angrily on Alexander of Tirragen. "Alex!" she snapped. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

            Her friend—or former friend, it seemed—laughed, but his eyes were cold. "Forgive me, Highness."

            "Oh stop it, Alex," Alanna scolded, feeling unnerved for some reason. She reached up to grip her ember stone for comfort.

            The knight laughed again. "Sorry. So, shall we duel?"

            Having no reason to refuse, Alanna shrugged and hefted the practice sword she was using—after the incident in the desert, she had carefully avoiding using Lightning.

            Alex smiled as he stepped onto the practice court, his naked blade gleaming in the sunlight. Warily Alanna brought her sword up to the "guard" position, studying Alex carefully: something didn't feel right about this match.

            Alex swung his blade up and around for an attack, which Alanna parried easily, and returned with her own strike, which he blocked and returned with another. And so it went, but rather than relaxing with the easy, polite bout they were having, Alanna began to grow nervous and suspicious at Alex's lazy blows: his dark eyes were too intense for this playfulness.

            She was right. Without warning, Alex switched into another gear and began to attack in earnest, his sharp blade whipping up and around to her shoulder. She jumped out of the way as he flipped his sword the other direction for the mirror strike at her left side, then down and under to slice at her abdomen. Alanna dodged and met his blade with hers, the metal making a ringing noise as the swords clashed and broke apart.

            "Alex, cool it!" Alanna protested, remembering all too well the "friendly" bout they'd had in her years as a squire, when Alex had nearly killed her.

            "What, you can't handle a friendly little swordfight now? That's too bad," Alex said lightly, but despite his cordial tone there was no mistaking the threatening implication beneath.

            "And what's that supposed to mean?" Alanna snapped, knocking Alex's sword away and stabbing in towards his chest. The young man darted lithely away, smiling coldly.

            "You know what it means, _lady._" His next blow came down harder than the last.

            "No, I'm afraid I don't, Alex," Alanna replied, trying to keep her voice even. What was going on here?

            Abruptly all the friendliness was gone from Alex's voice, until his tone matched the dangerous chill in his eyes and expression.

            "I mean I suppose it's hard for a pregnant woman to handle herself in a swordfight. _Pity._"

            Alanna stiffened. She'd only told Jonathan that, and she'd told him the night before, late in the night after she'd returned to the palace and avoided him until only two hours before dawn. Jon wouldn't have had time to tell anyone the "good news" yet—or at least what he knew of it. The king believed that Alanna's child was his child.

            Suddenly Alex's blows began to reign down even harder and faster, so furiously that Alanna had to switch her sword to her left hand and concentrate all her attention on the duel to keep him from landing a blow on her. Trying to distract Alex, Alanna said brightly,

            "So you've heard?" She forced a laugh. "I suppose proud fathers just can't contain that sort of news?"

            Alex barked a laugh. "Don't kid me, Alanna, we both know the father of _this_ baby won't be doing much announcing of news. He wouldn't dare."

            Cold dread washed over Alanna, but she forced herself to continue as if she didn't know what Alex was talking about. _He can't _possibly_ know!_ she screamed inside, but how else would his words make sense?

            "I don't know what you're talking about, Alex." Alanna meant the words to be strong and firm, but they came across as weak and doubtful.

            Suddenly Alex stopped altogether and stepped back, grinning like a cat that's trapped a mouse in a corner.

            "Time to give up, Alanna. We know all about the bastard child you're carrying."

            Alanna paled visibly. "You… you can't know that," she whispered, giving herself away.

            Alex just laughed again. "Yes, I can. Now you'd better come with me."

***

Dimly wondering where Faithful was and wishing desperately that her cat was beside her, Alanna followed Alex through the palace, her mind spinning.

            _This can't be happening,_ she pleaded. _It just can't. I'm not pregnant with George's child. In fact, I'm not pregnant at all! And Alex definitely doesn't know about it… because it never happened!_

            Her hopes were shattered by reality as a servant let them into someone's suite of rooms. Lost in horrified thought, Alanna hadn't even noticed where they were going and didn't realize until too late that she was in Duke Roger's rooms. She immediately tried to turn around and run out, but the door was shut and blocked by a grimly smiling Alex.

            "Don't try anything," the Duke of Conté advised. "The door is sealed by magic anyway, besides Alex and myself being here to stop you if you… get any ideas about leaving early."

            Alanna cursed under her breath, cursed herself for allowing this mess to happen in the first place and then for letting herself get tricked into walking into a snake's nest on top of everything else.

            "Now then," Roger was continuing. "Won't you sit down?" He waved a hand over to a set of couches and chairs. Alanna hesitated, but Alex prodded her sharply with his sword hilt and she moved to obey, boiling with anger as her fingers itched to draw her own sword and teach them a lesson; but fighting Alex or Roger one-on-one was hard enough, and after an exhausting bout with Alex there was no way she could handle them both at once.

            Alex sat beside her on the couch, and Roger seated himself comfortably on a chair facing them. Smiling genially, he poured wine from a crystal decanter into three goblets resting beside it on the shining wooden tabletop and offered two of them to Alex and Alanna.

            Watching suspiciously to make sure that Alex and Roger both drank from their goblets, Alanna put her own goblet to her mouth, unable to risk also probing the wine with magic to make sure it was not poisoned. Roger grinned, and Alanna wondered again if the sorcerer had been lying that his Gift had not returned to life with him from the Realms of Death. How else could he have known she was testing her wine with magic? And why would he have magical guards on his door? He could have guessed, of course, and could have had another sorcerer put the guards in place, but…

            Alanna put aside the thought for a moment and forced herself to concentrate on the present situation. Roger was smiling silkily at her over his goblet, and Alex's eyes followed her every move.

            "Now then," Roger commanded suddenly. "Let's get down to business. I presume Alex has told you of our… er, our knowledge?"

            Alanna nodded tensely, unconsciously building a protective wall of magic around herself. Roger gave no indication that he was aware of her shield, but Alanna was still almost certain the sorcerer had not left his Gift behind in the Black God's realms.

            "Good," Roger was continuing. "Knowing that we know something about you that I'm sure you wouldn't want known to anyone else, would you be interested in our proposition?"

            "Pigs might fly," Alanna snapped, bristling at the implied threat. "I'll never make a deal with you."

            Roger shrugged, commenting airily, "It would seem queens possessed more tact. It would also seem they had more sense."

            Alanna's temper blazed. "Sense enough to avoid a man who should be dead!"

            Roger shrugged again. "You're free to hold your opinions. But my opinion is that one should at least hear an offer before turning it down… but if you're sure… Alex, please escort the queen back to her rooms. I must summon my young cousin."

            "No, stop!" Alanna interrupted, before she could help herself. Two pairs of eyes turned to fix on her, and she shivered nervously, fear and the feeling of being trapped igniting her temper. "All right. What's your offer?" She spat the words out, hating the helpless feel of them on her tongue. She had killed this man! How could he hold her in his power so effectively? Alanna shivered again, knowing that she still feared the Duke of Conté and hating the power he had over her.

            "Our plan is simple. We don't tell the king that he is not the father of your child, and you don't let slip what you know of our… other plans, plans regarding the kingdom, and do nothing to hinder them. We will all benefit from this arrangement. I think you know what our gain is, and as for yours… well, I'm certain you'll have no trouble abdicating the throne once you are sole ruler of Tortall. The conservatives certainly don't want a Gifted female knight on the throne, and I'm sure any others can be… easily swayed."

            "And how do I gain from this?" Alanna growled, her mind racing furiously to find a way out.

            The Duke shrugged, glancing at Alex, who grinned at him. "You? You will be without a husband, free to do whatever you choose with nothing to hold you back…" He grinned wolfishly, letting his implication sink in.

            Alanna froze, her tart reply caught in her throat. In her moment of shock she let her magical shield slip, and didn't notice the orange fire taking its place until it was too late, until after it had seeped under her skin and saturated her body. The words "I can't" had almost slipped from her tongue when the orange fire caught them and forced her to swallow them, putting new words in her head. _I really do want that, don't I?_ The thought was there, dancing around just out of her reach so that she couldn't swat it away. Over and over the words played in her mind, until it was a hopeless jumble of confusion and similarly sickening phrases. And all was bathed in the orange fire, which singled out any lone thoughts such as _No! I could never hurt Jon!_ and flung them far away, into the remotest reaches of Alanna's mind.

            And from across the room, Duke Roger of Conté watched the inner struggle that he was helping Lady Alanna the Lioness, Queen of Tortall, to lose, a triumphant smile twisting across his face.

**A/N:** **_so neway, lets try FIVEreviews for this chapter? (from different people… ha, I see you trying to take the easy way out!) PLEASE??? Go tell yur friends about it. im evil, I wont update till I get my reviews!! Actually that's not true.. hey stop laughing, so im desperate. :-). REVIEW, PLEASE……… even if u already have, review again! Its so easy… just hit the little button down there… and make me so happy… ;-) and itll make you happy too….. just look down there, right below here, and see what a luverly personalized response you get, from ME, yur adored author.. *reminds herself um, yeah right! and makes fun of self*_**

**AmayaNightRain11:** glad u still like it! ;-) even tho im so mean to alanna… she really is my fav character tho!! And george, hehe. (and im sure yur imaging the terrible things I do to characters I don't like… *grin*)

**Innocence:** I know im evil… couldn't help myself… plz keep reading tho! I promise everything will work out… possibly… ;-)

**pixie-pain:** is this update ASAP enough for ya? :-) and ill try to get out another chapter today or tomorrow… and hopefully some next week but ill be really busy… and I am SO SORRY but ill be going to cali and portland for most of july and I don't think ill be able to work on the story!!!!!!!!  *begs pixie-pain not to strange herself*.. call the suicide hotline? :-P. but really ill do my best!!!!!!!! SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-(

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